Stinging Words
by thelittlecaligrapher
Summary: She's fluent in it, as fluent as she is at breaking my heart, piece by piece, stitch by stitch. Cam. Femslash.


_Growls that pull trembles from me late that night would remind me later of a dork that needs thanking._

* * *

Her words tickle at my consciousness. I roll over and press my head into my pillow, willing it with every fiber of my being just to _eat_ me. My skin bursts into an angry anthill of goosebumps when my mind pries up the memory of her fingertips brushing my jawline. And then that kiss.

Its ghost still lingers on my lips like Carly's breath used to do before she crossed the line neither of us had ever even acknowledged before last night. A groan presses at my throat in a battle I forgot to fight. If only the kiss had been more like what my mind had occasionally mused the circumstances might be.

Because my thoughts on the experience of my best friend and me kissing never involved a group of our mutual friends and some not so mutual ones all gathered 'round giggle as she fulfilled the dare sentenced onto the both of us by a cackling, male classmate with a too-vivid imagination. And before I could stop myself, I had turned to escape, get away from a pressure in the air I had let build before I thought to extinguish it. My wrist still tingles like pins and needles from where her hand had roughly caught it, reaching out to keep me trapped, reaching out to ground me with sugary breath and peppermint shampoo. And her stupid, stinging words. _Well, that was awkward_.

But I don't hold it against her. What was I expecting? _Awkward_. It fit, if I thought about it long enough. And I had.

But for a split second that will forever plague my mind only when everything goes dark and the noise of Carly's sleeping breath is all that presses at my ears, I'll remember the hope that bloomed like an Evening Primrose pressed at by the moon to open its sleepy petals. The hope that exploded in my chest and almost broke my ribs. The hope that made my heart beat like a hammer on an anvil in a master blacksmith's shop. The hope that almost hooked my lips into a foolish grin that would've ruined everything and betrayed my heart for the world to laugh at.

Her smile almost convinced me that my hope was okay, but then she laughed. Then she chorused _awkward_ with the rest of them and I spun away, tried to salvage anything I could of my heart. But her hand caught my wrist and I _never_ could get away from Carly.

It wasn't okay and it wasn't awkward, I could see that, I could feel it. Because her eyes betrayed her like my grin would've me. Her eyes betrayed her before anyone else could touch our world. And it's only because I _know her_ that I know what was firing at rapid speed behind her eyes before she let them pull her away from me and press words from her mouth. _Awkward._

I cringe into the pillow and resist the boiling urge to swat at the phone buzzing on Carly's coffee table. Instead, my fingers curl around the stupid hunk of technology and blind my morning stare with its bright screen.

_**Hey where are you? I just woke up and you're gone.**_

I want to throw my phone, scream at the top of my lungs, thrash around on her couch to try to _get_ _out_ that I wasn't at her beck and call. But I am. So I press the little buttons on my phone silently like a good best friend before waddling up her freezing steps so she could roll back over and sleep soundlessly like I had wanted to do all night.

Carly's door creeks open with a whining noise and I grumble to myself as I heft my blanket and pillow over my shoulder and barge the rest of the way into her room. I can feel her expectant, brown eyes try hard to find mine but I focus intently on my bare feet padding sleepily over to her bed.

My pillow fits perfectly back into the place I had pulled it from at four a.m. when I gave up trying to get to sleep beside the brunette and opted instead for her somewhat stiff couch. My side of the bed is chilled and the sheets are ruffled there, putting up a show of how I wrestled with sleep that night.

Her eyes are still trying to find mine and it's all I can do not to look up. Embarrassed.

_Awkward._

My shoulder breaks my rough plunge back into Carly's queen size bed but my back to her does nothing to shield me from her persistent, burning stare. Shuffling covers and an invading warmth I want to coldly tell to _get away _tumbles my stomach like one of the fancy washing machines from the commercials Carly and I sometimes make fun of.

"Sam..." But I press my eyes closed like maybe she'll be tricked by it and believe I was asleep. Leave me alone.

My tight throat doesn't let up as her fingers pull on a fluttering of my heart I never wanted to let her have again. Her _soft,_ stupid, _horrible_ fingers settle under my chin and try to pull me around to greet brown eyes. Eyelids squeeze shut tighter, trying desperately to block Carly out and _bar_ _in_ some bit, some form, of the sanity I wasn't sure I had left.

"Sam-?" and she's asking, not pleading or begging or choking like I wish she was. She's asking, like she has some right.

"What?" I burn coldly. Blue eyes blaze in frigid fury that I only reserve for people not Carly. But she pushed and she asked and she joined them instead of following through and showing me it was okay to have hope.

_Awkward._

And for that she gets brushed by the flame my soul has never been able to unleash on her, never been able touch her with.

And she shrinks back. Expected. But it still hurts. Like a flinch, she retracts. It stings. Like a jump scene you know is coming in a movie, but no matter how much mental preparing you do, your body still snaps like a rubberband along with everyone else in the theater. My stomach lurches like I've just witnessed a scene I hadn't anticipated.

Her fingers fall from under my chin and hide away somewhere in the blankets thrown over her thin legs. Some part of me wants to be sorry for snapping at her, for showing her the side never intended for her, but another part wants to push harder. The part I sometimes wish I could lose myself in.

And I wish, I wish so much, that when her hand timidly reached for mine that I could've pushed her away and told her to just _stop_. But instead I grasp just as tightly as she does because this new part of us scares me just as much as it scares her and I want to get lost in something familiar again. So I hold tight and hope she will just stay quiet.

"It was just a stupid kiss, Sam. It didn't mean anything and if I had known that it would ruin things like this-"

Eyelids slide close again and I block it out. Because she thinks she's helping and really all she's doing is tearing me apart, starting with every stitch she once used to sew my heart closed.

"-I would never have even agreed to the dare. It was just a-"

Sometimes I even muse to myself if Carly gets that she has such a way with words that always makes things so much worse. It's like a second language to her the way sarcasm is to me and nerd talk is to Freddie. But maybe she doesn't know and that's why she opens her mouth anyway.

"-game and I'm sorry it ever happened."

She's fluent in it, as fluent as she is at breaking my heart, piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

"I'm not." My voice is gravely and final as I turn back on my side and pretend like my head is filled with cotton so I wouldn't have to hear the caroling repetition of _awkward_.

"What?" breathless and choked.

Fingers creep close again and try to turn me over to shed a little more light on what I meant. I roll over and meet her chocolate confusion, eye to eye, and press the words she let others drown out with giggles and laughs.

"I'm not."

And I push my lips hard against hers without fear because _I_ _know _what I saw in her eyes before others invaded our world and stole my moment from me. And so I dive. I grab her face in my hands and skim my tongue over her lips for barely a second before my teeth drag out a moan that sings victory to my ears when I push her back away and growl,

"Well, that was _awkward_."

And I don't even need to look over my shoulder as I storm out of Carly's room to know the stunned expression taking hold of her face and the fact that even after hours of examining every word, every syllable, ever angle, and tone of those four words, she still won't even begin to get what they meant.

* * *

By the time my weekend was over, I had seventeen calls from Carly, nine voicemails, thirty-one texts, and a couple emails. Oh, and my mom told me Carly even stopped by four times but luckily Momma Puckett was too drunk to realize that I was even home.

My anger had finally fizzled out when I woke up Monday morning. It being winter break I wasn't in a hurry as I jump in the shower and wash the sleep out of my body before the water turns chilly and my mom yells at me for existing only to make her life difficult.

My stomach rumbles loudly as I leave the bathroom and made a freezing break for my bedroom and warm sweats. Droplets race down my legs as my towel did nothing to stop them. My door snaps closed and my yellow towel falls to the floor without a second thought.

Navy blue sweat pants are barely up to the bottom of my boxers when a knock raps sharply at my door.

Eyes rolling, a "Come in" slips from my lips in a slur. I didn't have to see brunette curls peek through the opening in my door to know it was Carly. Mom wouldn't have knocked.

"Jeez, Sam!" Carly's hand snaps up to cover her eyes.

I hadn't gotten as far as a shirt or a bra. My naked stomach growls again.

"Alright, I'm covered." My words are muffled by the hoodie I was wrestling over my head. "Don't know why you freaked; 'snot like it's anything you haven't seen before."

Carly's cheeks flush an attractive rose red. Her lips are pink and her hair is curled. Curls were my favorite on Carly. She wasn't sure she was forgiven yet.

"Something you wanted?" my nonchalant tone feels colder hanging in the air than it had in my head or throat before I spoke.

"Oh, well… I-I– Are we okay?" her cheeks burn brighter as she looks away. "'Cause I just really don't know where we stand after the stupid party and then Saturday morning – and you just seemed really mad when you left – and that ki–"

"Stop." My voice cuts like a knife and her words die a quick death in her throat.

"We're fine. Just forget any of it happened." I see the desperation in her eyes that shouts to me, when she can't bring herself to do it aloud, _I don't want to forget about _any_ of it._ But something stops her, maybe it's my eyes daring her to stir that subject again, or maybe it's just her mind finally catching up and realizing how often her words tumble out and tear down well-built walls.

"I don't want to forget any of it happened."

Or maybe nothing was stopping her.

"Well I do, so just drop it." I look down at the cream colored jacket I had on. It was Carly's.

My fingers bunch up in frustration and yank it over my head. Carly's breath hitches but I ignore her. Another hoodie is laying on my floor in a rumpled mess and tangle of wrinkles I try to shake out tiredly before snuggling it over my head and putting Carly back at ease.

"Can't we just talk about this, Sam?" her mouth opens again to continue but my "_No"_ that cracked like a whip cuts her off short.

She looks lost for words and lost for comfort. Restless fingers pick at invisible threads that scream to me my best friend's torment. Is her stomach as tightly wound as mine? Does her skin feel like it was crawling with guilt, too? Is there a voice in _her_ head murmuring _awkward_ like some sick, reoccurring nightmare?

Her feet shift and dig into my carpet mimicking the air of a small child overwhelmed with nerves.

"Sam-"

"Feel free to let yourself out. I have to go." Passing by her, my fingers almost stretch out on impulse to brush against her knuckles in a soothing action I had picked up years before when nights spent crying over her mother were common and anxiety attacks were the usual.

I wasn't sure if the heartbeat whimper of _I'm sorry_ was real of memory.

* * *

Freddie is surprisingly the first one to get Carly and me in the same room again. And by the time I'm looking into her nervous brown eyes, I completely forget about the dork's dumb excuse of an 'emergency' episode of iCarly. Silly words about some 'new webcast episode requirement the _makers _of the internet issued' float around in my head long enough for me to make a mental note about slapping Freddork for the lame excuse – and then myself for believing it.

But for now, mental notes about smacking a dork don't matter because he's standing on one side of a glass door jingling keys with a grin plastered stupidly across his nub of a face and Carly and I are stuck on the other side of the door. The side of the door that had a webshow studio attached to it and an elevator that would be our escape.

The smirk slides off of Freddie's face as Carly jabs the button and calls the elevator to our rescue. Under any other circumstances, Carly and I would both be laughing at how badly thought through Freddie's plan was when he locked us in a room with an elevator. But neither of us was in the mood to laugh and enjoy each other's company so instead, with arms crossed and scowls in place, we step into the elevator and immediately split off to separate corners.

The _ding_ sounds and with a slight lurch, the elevator descends. Then stops. Too soon. Way too soon.

Carly's phone buzzes loudly.

"Freddie?"

I slide down the wall with a huff and listen silently to half of the conversation and the buzzing florescent light above.

"Yeah the elevator is stuck!"

Carly looks thoroughly flustered. It was cute. Her cheeks are tinted with a familiar red that suited her well and her hair is curled again. My stomach furls in on itself, my mind consumed with thoughts of burying my nose into her hair and my senses flooding with peppermint.

I shook myself and focus instead of Carly's voice turning inside out with a shrill shout of, "What do you mean you caused it?"

My head bangs loudly as it falls back against the wall with realization. The dork wasn't as brainless as I gave him credit for. Or as smart as other did. Because he would never have jammed the elevator if he had any idea what I was going to do to him when I get out of here.

"Freddie," Carly growls, low and dangerous. My stomach clenches at her tone and sends fire up my whole body. "Benson, I swear. You get this elevator moving again or I'll-"

"Carly-" The rest of her threat dissipated with my warning call.

Her eyes narrow and dart to mine. Her gaze practically scorches me, tries to burn me up. Her jaw is still set stubbornly in a scowl that is only getting harder the longer the elevator stands still.

"Cupcake, you're going to have to calm down and specifically _not_ use that tone of voice." I pull myself together enough not to shiver or tremble when her furious tone strikes out again.

"_What? _You're telling me what to do now?" her cell snaps shut and Freddie is removed as a witness.

_If looks could kill…_

My fingers dig into my knees and my eyes squeeze shut like I was trying hard to forget something.

"Carly, _please_ calm down." Desperation clings heavily in the air making it hard to breathe and harder still to focus.

Another growl leaves her throat but my ears take it in almost like a purr. The bottom of my stomach drops out and my breath comes in reckless spurts that made me lightheaded. I try to think of a never-ending chant of _awkward_ to clean out all other thought but Carly's low voice threads through dangerously and starts to reduce me to nothing more than the hormonal teen I am.

My throat chokes up and I gasp urgently to bring myself down.

"Sam?" Carly's voice of worry washes through me, tugging and dragging away the memory of that growl, that low _growl_ that does things to me.

My lungs rake in a breath of clean air that plunges straight through my head and helps clear the fogged up jumble. Sliding like ice, it melts all the way down to my stomach and dilutes the boil brewing there. Fingertips continue to press into jean-covered knees but the needed focus there had melts away.

And then her fingers are back on my skin, on my chin. Eyelids flutter open when they should have stayed closed until all the effects of Carly's voice had drained out of them. Her breathing is harder – or maybe it just seemed so because she was so close.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay, Cupcake." I rush to sooth her prickled worry.

My own fingers reach up to trace her jaw and stroke away all anxiety left there. I pretend not to notice the way she leans into my touch and she pretends she doesn't feel the ripple spent through me at the contact. Her hand traces down to my neck and goosebumps erupt in its wake. My tongue darts out to wet my mouth and Carly's uneven breath ghosts against my lips, _like it used to._

And then I move, press forward. It drags out a quick burst of air from my best friend's throat but I stop short. Our noses rub, brush, and our breath mixes in a cloud of anxiety, smiles, and _hope_.

My head bobs slightly, lips almost brushing. But I want it to be okay. So I ask, like I had this right.

"Is this okay?" my forehead is on hers and it's almost a rhetorical question with the way her mouth is just as parted as mine and she hasn't pulled away.

"Carly?" I tug for her attention.

"It's okay…" but I don't move. I can't.

So she urges again, "It's okay."

Breath breaks my bones and I tumble forward. And then we're moving, shifting, reaching, grasping. Gasping.

Her hands fly to my head and pull me closer while mine fall to her hips and pushes her back, counting on her hands to bring me with her. Her back presses into the floor and there's barely a fleeting thought of _I hope the floor is clean_ before I'm being shoved over onto my back. Her knees settle on either side of my hips and all I want to do is yank her down flush against me. So I do.

Her lips map my neck and I want to scream – but not because of something Carly is doing to me. I want to scream because Freddie is suddenly calling down the elevator shaft and Carly is scrambling off of me.

"No..." I groan and reach to try to pull her back but she smiles shyly at me and shakes her head.

"Sam…" her lips drag out my name like she's chiding me but the force behind her words is forgotten because of the smile tugging at her mouth.

"Guys? Carly? Sam didn't hurt you did she? Are you alive? Carly, I love you! Sam, I swear! She better be alive."

A growl rips from my throat before I throw myself at Carly and claim her with my lips. "You're _mine_, not that little _nub's_."

And she is. Carly just smiles at me and nods her head, teeth digging into her lip adorably.

"Carls," I groan and nip at her lip for myself. "You really need to be more careful, Cupcake. I know I'm strong willed but c'mon, baby, I'm not superman!"

She giggles then kisses me before we hear Freddie call down again and Carly feels like she's obligated to let him know she's okay.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


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